Alphabet Soup
by Wings of Wax
Summary: A series of (prompted) one-shots based around my OC Eve and the rest of her village. It's not necessary to have read the Survival series, but I recommend it for the situations and characters to make sense. [Rated T for now.]
1. Talisman

**_Welcome to Alphabet Soup!_**

This is a series of prompted one-shots based around my OCs.

Each chapter title is a word. That word (and definition) serve as the prompt!

I hope to write one story for each letter of the alphabet.

This is a fun little writing exercise that MercedesCarello involved me in! (Thanks!)

My goal here is just to explore my characters and their potentials.

I might even throw in a few that are based on the original characters. (Who knows?)

Disclaimer: I don't known Attack on Titan/ Shingeki no Kyojin- Hajime Isayama does. I do, however, own everything that comes out of my colorful imagination.

I hope you enjoy these little glimpses into the lives of my characters!

* * *

_Talisman:_ an object (such as a ring or stone) that is believed to have magic powers and to cause good things to happen to the person who has it

* * *

Eve (age 6)

* * *

"Don't ever cut your hair, daughter." The slender, tall woman of fair hair and complexion she called Mother stood at her back, combing through long, thick auburn tresses.

"Why not?" the little girl played with an errant curl that had escaped the brush so far. She tugged it down, then watched as it jumped back to its original shape like a spring.

"Because no matter what happens in life, your hair is your one true possession." She didn't like it when Mother spoke this way. It reminded her of the worst time of her life, when they'd been poor and didn't even have enough to eat. It had been pure luck that her father was given the farm to work. They'd paid off her father's debts and now they had enough money for shoes, though she still chose to run around without them.

"It's too hot," the girl stated. She wasn't whining, this time, only remarking on the brutal summer sun that beat down on everything it could reach.

Mother chuckled. "That's why I'm going to braid it all up for you." The painful process only happened with Mother finally forced her to wash her hair. Baths were daily, but her hair was so long and unmanageable, they only washed it once a week.

Eve grunted and complained every time Mother pulled her hair too tightly or snagged a tangle with the comb. Before the braid was even half-way completed, her head was pounding and the skin on her forehead felt as if it might split if it were pulled any tighter. The braid never fell down behind her back. Instead, it was looped through itself and circled the top of her head in layers so thick, her scalp wasn't visible.

"Sit still!" Mother commanded, more exasperated than angry. "It will come loose if you keep wiggling. I know you don't want me to have to do it up all over again." It sounded like a threat, but she knew Mother worked hard to get her hair perfect. "Take care of your hair, daughter. It's beautiful."

She stared across the wide kitchen, longing for freedom against the torture. "But I don't like it!" She was met with a sharp rap over the top of her head with the flat side of the comb.

"So ungrateful!" Mother was angry this time. "You were blessed with this hair. It could be thin and plain like mine, or coarse and that dirty-looking brown like your father's." She knew she shouldn't say anything. It was a game Mother liked to play. She would offer up an alternative that wasn't a choice to be made. She often grew furious when Eve tried to play along.

"Are you almost done?" She knew she was whining, and that often got her into trouble, but her head was pounding and she was antsy. Her clean, for once, bare feet danced over the floor below her.

"Yes," Mother sighed. Eve felt the pins inserted into place. She sat as still as possible, counting to twenty. Once the final brown pin was scraped across her scalp, she leapt up and away from Mother's painful fingers.

"Can I go play with Erik now?" Mother nodded once. With a large grin, she wrapped her arms around Mother's waist. "Thank you!" And then she was off tearing through the soft grass as fast as her short little legs would carry her. Erik was out in the fields, trying to help Father, but only making a nusainse out of himself.

_8 Years Later_

"What have you done?" Mother screeched, clutching one hand to her breast and the other she pressed to her lips. "Eve..."

Piles of dark auburn curls littered the ground at the base of the tree Eve sat under. She reached up with the knife to hack away one more section. The strands that had once brushed against the backs of her knees now barely reached her shoulders. Mother sank to her knees in the damp grass, causing darker wet spots to show in the pale blue of her dress. Her dingy white apron was stained green from the grass.

"I couldn't take it anymore!" Eve felt defiant, angry, bitter. Mother's green eyes, so similar to her own, were watery with unshed tears. Triumph welled in her chest. "It was impractical, Mother."

"This... your hair... how could you?"

"My hair was always _your_ treasure, Mother, not mine."

"Your hair has brought us good fortune!"

Eve's brow furrowed. "What?"

"The only other time I cut your hair, you were just a little thing- about two. I only took a few curls. I wanted to have a brooch made." Mother stopped, her voice catching in her throat as a sort of sob. Eve frowned. Her defiance and triumph faded into confusion and pity. "That same day, your father and I lost everything. He was robbed of his cart on the road and our little house burned to the ground. We had nothing left."

Mother had always been a superstitious person. Eve mocked her for it behind her back, but Erik had been convinced of a sort of truth to most of it. The knife in Eve's hand fell to the soft earth, sticking into the dirt. A man came riding up to them, both he and his horse appearing breathless.

"Get your horses! Come with me!" Mother stood, a horrified look on her face as the tears finally escaped. "We need to go!"

"Why?" Eve asked, challenging the unfamiliar, dark-skinned man.

"Wall Maria has been breached! Titans are coming!"


	2. Crow

_Crow: _any of various large usually entirely glossy black passerine birds (family Corvidae and especially genusCorvus)

* * *

Eve (a few months before the Survey Corps find her)

* * *

Watching the sun set beyond the horizon had become something of a ritual since her trip outside of Wall Maria. She longed for the sense of freedom she'd felt that day, but it never came again. Trapped here behind the Walls, she was doomed to a world of repeated failures. Never would the sunset bring her that same peace of mind- the same sense of accomplishment.

Thundering footfalls from a Titan closing in on the village disturbed the birds. She watched as the murder of magnificent black crows alighted, their wings spreading and catching the last remaining sunlight. The beautiful black feathers were tinted in varying shades of red and blue. She stood as the last of them began to fly for areas less disturbed by the monsters that threatened their peace.

The Titan was small. From her vantage point on the outer edge of the forest that surrounded and protected her village, she could see the Titan's tiny arms become tangled in the thick web of branches and vines. It's feet were over-large and covered in what appeared to be mud. She grimaced. It was much more likely to be old, dried blood. She frowned and watched as the creature, little more than three meters in height, struggled against the natural barrier. It was nature versus monster, and so far nature was winning. As the sun began to sink lower over the horizon, it's lower end already blocked by the cold, cruel Walls that both protected and imprisoned, the little Titan's movements began to slow. The giant head full of mint-colored hair sagged against its wide chest, thick eyelids drooping closed over large, bulbous yellow eyes. The fight was over, and Mother Nature claimed her victory.

Eve set about climbing down the tall tree, careful to use the same branches she had when climbing up. She avoided any that looked too delicate. Falling twenty meters to the hard ground below was not on her to-do list for the night. As she meandered her way from the base of the tree to where the Titan now sat, she noticed the crows returning to their resting spots. The Titan was hunched over, kneeling on the ground more than sitting, with its hands nestled loosely in the grass. She drew her swords and stepped around behind it. Climbing up its back was an easy task thanks to how small it was. In no time at all, steam was rising from the felled beast, drenching her clothes and hair. She jumped away and headed back for her spot among the trees.

The murder had finally settled down. As she climbed back up the marked tree, she contemplated the ability to fly. The gear she'd stolen, well, scavenged, so many times over gave her the ability to soar through the trees at astounding speeds, but it couldn't make her fly. Why couldn't humans gain this ability? It would have made fighting the Titans a breeze. The Walls wouldn't have to exist. She imagined herself as one of those magnificent black birds, gliding through the warm mid-summer night air. Her imagination painted a serene portrait of the landscape below: images of the mountains in the far distance gracefully dotting the horizon with their majestic snowcapped crowns; wide, slow-flowing rivers with glistening blue water; massive trees of varying shades of browns and greens- all bearing a variety of fruits and flowers; rolling plains of fields full of crops; small hills dotting the landscape, home to numerous clusters of villages; the cloudless, pale blue of the summer sky; her friends and family beating their multi-hued black wings beside her.

With one hand, she reached up to brush away the tears that began to roll over her cheeks. Would she ever be granted the chance to experience the freedom of a wall-less prison again? She wished she were a crow.


	3. Leapt

_Leapt_: to pass abruptly from one state or topic to another

* * *

Otho (before the second appearance of the Colossus Titan)

* * *

He watched as she practiced with the three dimensional maneuvering gear from his own place several meters away. Aldrich was at her side; they were laughing at some unheard joke. The way her eyes closed and her nose wrinkled whenever she laughed, truly laughed, was beautiful. She snapped her head to one side at the sound of a shout. Her ponytail, longer now than it had ever been before, shot around to snap its ends in her face. Like lightning, she and Aldrich shot away into the trees. He remained, still trying to get his balance just right.

In the distance, he could hear more screams. It wasn't worry that drove him to seek out the commotion, but intrigue. So far, the only Titans he'd killed were the ones that had fallen still after sunset. He knew where to cut, and how deeply, but he wasn't sure he could do so after leaping into the air from a tree branch. The gear didn't suit him, but he was trying to learn to use it out of necessity. Everyone who could fight needed to know how. That was what Micah preached everyday.

He shot out the right cable and swung though the trees, narrowly missing large branches and trunks. He did not miss some of the smaller branches; as a consequence, he wound up with small scrapes on his arms and face. He shot the left cable into another tree and continued on, headed for the silhouette of the Titan in the not-so-far distance. He had yet to master the art of flips and landing in trees, so the moment he felt close enough to run, his feet hit the ground. A quick sprint and seconds later, he was watching as Eve shrieked.

She was carving open the belly of the Titan. Thick steam nearly obstructed her completely from view. Before he could move to get her away, Christophe swung by, snatching her out of the way and fighting against her kicking and her screaming as he made a large arch before returning to the forest floor. He dropped her on the ground as she wailed. He made his way over to her just as Christophe crouched by her side, grabbing her hands.

There were various large white blisters among the bright red and pink skin stretching from her hands up to her elbows. Slime and blood had soaked into her clothes, along with the steam that had drenched even her bouncing ponytail. Wordlessly, he knelt at her side. Christophe looked over at him, but no one had any words for what had just happened. Not yet.

Eve was sobbing. When Christophe let go of her hands, they fell palm-up against her thighs. Otho gathered her into his arms and stood. He wasn't talented enough to evenly distribute his weight while carrying another person, so he walked. It was a long trip. Eve buried her face in his shoulder, and while the horrible, gasping sobs and screeching wails had subsided, her tears had not. He didn't have any words of comfort for her. Aldrich had never been his friend, but, then again, he didn't have any friends- not really.

He was too big, too scary. Far outgrowing the other children from his youth, they'd called him a giant, a freak, a Titan. Orlan had taken him in when their parents died, but he'd been self-sufficient for nearly three years. Despite his brother's and sister's-in-law promises that he was no trouble, he'd worked hard to provide everything he needed for himself. Alice had been nice to him, but he found no real compassion in her. Now that Alice was dead, Orlan had become just as silent as his younger brother. Other than the few hours a week Otho spent practicing with Eve and the others, he rarely spoke at all.

Eve had come to him first, asking if he'd like to learn how to kill the Titans. Of course, he'd heard Micah's daily speeches about everyone knowing how to fight for their lives, but he'd never really given the idea much thought. With over thirty people already volunteering, and some, like Eve, who were so good at it, why was he necessary? Eve had convinced him with just a few words: "Oh come on! You're going to leave the Titan-killing to a little girl like me?" He'd looked her over and sighed. Her tiny frame and skinny arms and legs barely looked strong enough to keep her upright and walking. How could he refuse?

Christophe was designated as his formal teacher, but Eve took over the job herself once it became clear that he and Christophe didn't meet eye-to-eye. She'd shooed Christophe away to deal with someone else and sat down on the ground in front of him. That day, he'd spent two entire hours with her alone, learning about the gear itself: how it worked, how to assemble it, how to clean it, and how to put it on. Her bright smiles and cheerful attitude wormed their way under his skin, and soon, he was letting himself feel again.

They'd spent all of their training time together, after that- at least until Otho figured out how to move in the gear. Then she was off with Aldrich and Micah, learning much more advanced moves and staying on patrol for hours and hours. As the weeks passed, he'd watched as her cheery mood deteriorated into lethargic depression. Thinking it was Micah or Aldrich that had caused the sudden change in her demeanor, he confronted her one night on her way back to the small house by the fields she shared with her father. She'd pushed him away and snapped at him to leave her alone, but he'd followed her the entire way home, hoping to annoy her into giving him answers. She'd slipped inside the house without another word, but he'd heard shouting and crying not long after the door clicked shut.

Understanding had washed over him that day. She was far stronger than he'd ever given her credit for, but she still needed someone to protect her. Why else was he working so hard to use the gear and swords provided to him? Her brother had died the previous year from an accident with the gear. Her mother had died shortly after the Wall was breached. Her father should have been taking care of her and keeping her safe. Instead, he was the source of her depression and pain. She'd always told people that she'd fallen or a Titan had brushed her when they saw the bruises. Now he knew- it was a lie, and it always had been.

His reflections ceased as the rage for the man that abused her so horrifically welled within him. They were too close to the village now, too close to the others. Eve's crying stopped, and he felt her using her shoulder to wipe her face clear of the tears. A few people tried to stop him as he traveled the worn dirt path to the center of the village, but they fell away when they saw the burns on Eve's arms. He made his way to Doc's house in silence. Susanne met them in the yard and ushered them inside. Otho placed Eve on the cot in the kitchen and turned to leave.

"Wait," she whispered. He shifted his feet and looked over his shoulder at her, prepared to sit at her side should she ask him. She couldn't meet his eyes. "Thank you." He only nodded, then left.

That evening, he was called away from delivering the load of wood to Lacey's apartment above the village center. Bren had shouted for him to come right away, so he dropped the arm load back into the crate and jogged downstairs. Bren was standing at the threshold, waving him over. Otho peered outside, and the same feeling of rage boiled within him once more.

Eve was just outside of Doc's house. Her hands and arms were bandaged up to above her elbows. She was just standing here, both fists clenched and head down. Her hair fell in front of her face, but he could picture her expression. Her father stood in front of her, screaming in a drunken fit of anger over some trivial matter. Otho stepped outside, brushing by Bren and several others as he neared the man berating his one friend.

His plan was just to talk to the man, to try to redirect the anger at himself. He didn't care anything for what the man had to say, as long as he wasn't saying it to Eve anymore. He picked up the words "good for nothing" and "worthless" amid the slurred speech. It wasn't until the man raised his fist that Otho's plans changed entirely.

It took less than thirty seconds for him to dash across the open space, grab the man's shoulder and spin him around, then crush his own fist into the man's face before crouching down before Eve to look up through the curtain of her hair at the split and bloody lip. There were people around them, some yelling, others whispering and pointing, and still some trying to get his and Eve's attention, but they ignored the world.

For just that moment, they were the only two in existence. Eve lifted her chin just a little. She smiled.

It wasn't her normal grin, and nor was it very happy. It was grateful, though, and despite the freely bleeding cut in her bottom lip, she kept it up. He sighed and shook his head at her, then stood. She reached out with one bandaged hand and took his. She lead him to the orchard, and he followed happily. Whatever her intentions, he was just glad he'd finally had the chance to protect her.

"Eve," he muttered once they were surrounded by the trees and the green, crisp apples. She turned completely to look at him, but did not let go of his hand. "I'm sorry." His actions, he realized, were bound to only cause her more trouble in the future. She just shook her head at him, though.

"Don't be sorry. Be prepared to do that again, though, the next time he hits me. I'll be waiting for you."

And with those words, he knew without a shred of doubt, that his fate was sealed. He'd make all sorts of leaps and bounds for the girl before him. She was strong in her own way, but someone had to be there to protect her when she could no longer protect herself. He would be that person for her. He'd successfully leapt into the dark and unknown field of emotions he hadn't let himself feel in several long years, but he was more than happy to do it.


	4. Undulating

_Undulating_: to move with a sinuous or wavelike motion; display a smooth rising-and-falling or side-to-side alternation of movement

* * *

Rosa (a week after the first trip to Wall Rose)

* * *

The grass fields were beautiful this time of year. Layers of yellowed, dry shoots scratching together in a soothing lullaby as they were pushed and pulled gently by the wind, arching one way, then bowing over the next. She'd seen the small waves in the river, but this looked so much bigger. She didn't have a proper comparison. Hilda sat in the grass by her side, nibbling on a few strands she'd plucked when the bristles were pulled towards them.

Peaceful. Serene. The troubles of the world seemed to melt away, dissolving like the tufts of cotton snatched from their stalks or the pollen dusting the country side. Fall was always her favorite season. The old was beginning to die away, making room for the new growth to come in the spring. The colors of the dying earth were beautiful. Browns and oranges and reds. Little green, but enough to give the encouragement for the new life that was sure to arrive within months.

It had been almost a week since they left. The green grass and leaves had faded into brown with their leaving. She couldn't decide if that was a bad omen or a sign of hope that soon they'd all be leaving this wasteland behind. She glanced back over at Hilda, noticing the horse's ears flicking, her long nose turning to gaze at the horizon to the West.

It was high noon. Maybe a little later. Rosa stood. Hilda followed.

Three riders. No Titans.

_Three _riders.

Her heart sank down to her feet when she realized that Micah was not among them. When her knees gave out beneath her and she sank into the tall waves of grass, she could no longer see around her. Wishing she could vanish into the swaying stalks around her, she brought her hands to her face and cried.


	5. Yearn

_Yearn_: to feel a strong desire or wish _for_ something or _to do_ something; to long persistently, wistfully, or sadly

* * *

Christophe (about a year before the first trip to Wall Rose)

* * *

Why couldn't she just take two seconds out of her day to look at him? It wasn't like they were very busy these days. All she had to do was give up her precious fucking horses for ten minutes! But no, she couldn't do that.

"I have to saddle break this one, or we'll never be able to use him."

He cursed her again under his breath. Engaging his maneuvering gear, he soared off into the thick forest. He'd take over Eve's patrol for the afternoon. Maybe killing a few Titans would improve his mood...

"Hey Eve, go on home. I'll take it from here." He landed on the branch next to hers. She gave him a sideways sort of glance, but shrugged and agreed. "Where's your gear?"

"Don't need it," she muttered darkly. If he argued with her about the damned gear now, he'd just take out all of his anger on her. While she rarely complained about it during his onslaught, later she'd make some snide remark about bedding Rosa and that would only get him angry all over again. Instead, he watched as she climbed down the massive tree. He thought for sure that she was going to fall, but like the monkey he often called her, she shimmied her way down without faltering for a second.

Why couldn't she just acknowledge him? Swinging through the branches on the steel cables, he tried to clear the thoughts from his head. It didn't work, but he continued to try. What was so damned hard about having dinner with him? Or a conversation? Or just looking at him?

He'd done everything he could to get her into good practice with the gear. He'd shown her how to kill the Titans. He'd even gone so far as to get special permission from both Lacey and Micah to allow her to leave the village and go hunting with Hans and the others. He couldn't even get a single dinner date in return for all of his hard work? How was that fair?

Damn the horses! He quickly took the curse back. Without the horses, they'd probably all be dead by now. But why could someone else take care of things for a few hours? Hans knew a lot about horses- he'd said so. What was the fucking point in having two people to take care of the horses if one of them hogged all of the work for herself?

Damn _her_! That curse was okay, he figured. She was strong enough to protect herself against anything that might come at them. Hell, she'd even saved Hans' ass on one occasion. He wished he knew how to hunt. Then, at least, he could spend time with her. Even if they couldn't talk to each other, just being near her was usually enough to make him happy. Problem was, she didn't want to be near him.

It was getting pretty late, but the sun hadn't quite set entirely. The long summer days were the best, he thought. All of the village girls wore their short summer dresses- well, except Eve, but she didn't look much like a girl anyway. The rest of the girls and young women were nice to look at, but he only wanted to see Rosa in that pink flowery dress he'd only seen on her once.

She'd been so pretty. Her fiery red hair had fallen down her back in tiny, tight curls. Her feet were bare that day. The pink dress had gone well with her skin, he thought. The hem of the dress didn't quite reach her knees, and the collar was wide and low. He'd loved it, but she hadn't even given him the time of day when he'd complimented her on it.

With an annoyed and slightly bitter sigh, he tossed himself forward and into a wide arch for a turn to resume his patrol on that half of the forest. What was wrong with him? Was he just not good enough for her? The way he saw it, her choices weren't exactly what they once were- especially among the young men, since so many of them seemed to be dropping dead like flies every time he turned around. He'd heard a rumor once that she liked girls, but quickly dismissed it.

When would she wake up and realize that he could be good enough for her? He was strong. Okay, so maybe he wasn't all that bright, but he wasn't a complete idiot either. He could protect her. She could protect herself, yeah, but everyone needed protecting at some point in their lives.

Eve and Otho had hooked up. Alois already had his little girlfriend Mina. Klaus and the girl Karen that took care of the cows and sheep and chickens had hooked up- several times, if the rumors were true. Josef liked Hans, but everyone knew that wasn't going to happen. Was he in that same boat, but with Rosa? Did everyone but him know he didn't have a snowball's chance in hell with that girl?

Damn them all! He came to a rest on a tree branch after reaching the center of the arch he was patrolling. Why couldn't she just give him a chance?


	6. Silk

_Silk_: a smooth, soft, and shiny cloth that is made from thread produced by silkworms

* * *

Annalise (about six months before the beginning of _Survival: On the Outside_)

* * *

It was gloriously soft. The material Eve had brought to the village this time was a rare treasure. Determined to do something wonderful with it, she stowed away the bolt of deep red silk in a trunk. Every day she would consider the possibilities, then dash them away. She needed a special occasion to use the fine material. Such times typically only came in the form of sadness- funerals and stillbirths had become almost a weekly occurrence in the past two months. She needed a happy time to employ her skills and form the silk into something magnificent.

Winter had devastated the population. Over twenty deaths in just ten weeks had left the living in a state of morbidity and fear. She would often see them crying or clutching their young children to their breasts, praying for just one more day of life. Eve had warned her not to speak to them. They wouldn't understand her ideals regarding death the way Eve herself did. She'd either gone out of her way to avoid those women, or she'd outright lied to them about how they were going to live in peace again one day. So many were dead, but Annalise knew only the dead would achieve peace in this world that was living outside of the protection of the Walls. She'd accepted that fact long before Leon had died; his death had only cemented the idea. She didn't want this life for her child, though. He needed a safe place to live and grow up. That was what had prompted her to force Eve into a promise- a promise that no matter what, he would live on.

She'd considered making another something for Leonardo. Eve had mocked her for being so positive that her baby was a boy. Annalise had simply sighed. She couldn't explain _how_ she knew, but she felt absolutely certain. If the baby did turn out to be a girl, her name would be Leonora. For now, though, Annalise was content to speak to her growing belly as if a baby boy were growing inside of her. She'd had some spectacular dreams of him, but she'd told no one but Leon- not even Eve could know. Dreams were wishes, and wishes could never be spoken aloud. The recurring color of a deep blood red made her hesitant to use the silk for her baby Leo, though. She wanted blue for him. Blue for the freedom of the sky; blue for the purity of water; blue for the beauty of the orchids she loved.

Red was Eve's color. Her auburn hair, the maroon sweater that she'd made for her, the color of blood that had stained Eve's clothes and body the day Annalise had lost her husband. Not that she blamed Eve for his death- she just couldn't seem to remember Eve without blood on her anymore. Whenever her dearest friend would leave again for supplies, Annalise couldn't imagine her without the crimson stains. While red might have been the color of blood, it was also the color of passion- a trait Eve possessed in spades. Eve couldn't do anything without a form of passion. Love, hate, worry- they were all passionate emotions, and despite how little Eve displayed these characteristics in her speech or expressions, Annalise saw them in her actions.

With another image of Eve in her mind, a red blot in a fog of rain, she found a smile and went to the trunk. Eve had gone out yet again- the third time in a week- for more supplies. They needed everything. Alois had only gone so far as the next village with her a handful of times, so she had forced him to remain in the village during the horrible conditions she currently rode in. The typhoon had started almost immediately after Eve's departure. So many people were already suspecting her death, but Annalise knew better. No matter the situation, Eve would find a way to survive- a way to return to them. With those thoughts in her mind, she pulled out the beautiful bolt of crimson silk and smiled. She would make Eve something practical, but very nice. After all, for everything Eve had done to protect the people of this village and keep them alive, she deserved something nice.

Singing to little Leo, she seated herself at the table by the fire and grabbed her scissors. The image of the cape sat in her mind better than any drawing or pattern. She'd completed half of the black lace trim before Leo demanded another meal. As she cooked, Klaus came to visit for a moment, checking in on her as she was sure Eve had asked of him. She took the moment to ask him for a few pelts, if they had any to spare. He left and brought them straight over. Annalise thanked him with a warm bowl of watery stew- it was all she had- and he headed back out into the vicious rainstorm.

Finishing the cloak took the entire four days Eve was gone. She didn't give it to her straight away, though. It was a special gift for a special occasion. Leonardo wasn't due for several months, but she decided that the cloak would be Eve's gift on the day he was born. She began to cry, seeing an image of Eve wearing the cloak as she rode out to protect Leo from harm. Much like Eve's nightmares, the images Annalise's mind conjured seemed to hold true. She knew she would not live to see Leo's first birthday, but she was okay with that thought. He would be safe- of that she was absolutely certain, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Let me know what you think!


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